I Never Knew
by jellybabyneedsjelly
Summary: On Christmas morning, depressed teen Mara finds herself inexplicably standing on the edge of her London roof. Seeing it as her chance, she is saved from a suicide attempt by a strange man in pajamas. Unwilling to ditch her with social services, the man brings her along on an adventure that takes her across the stars. (follows show plot, TW for self harm/suicide. Details inside)
1. prior

**Hello friends it is Jels! I am back with (yet another) new story. I'm writing this as a venting story, to basically get out all of my aggression. My therapist says that if I write about cutting it'll help keep me from doing it to myself. So anyways. This is kind of a touchy topic for me, but to get it all out is liberating. :)**

This story contains a lot of triggering material, such as self-harm, suicide, alcoholism, eating disorders, depression, and anxiety. If any of that bothers you, please don't read this. Every chapter containing excessive triggering material will have a warning at the top.

 **Doctor Who and all of its trademarks belong to the BBC and its affiliates. I only own Mara, Lies, and their individual plot arcs.**

 **[Rated M for violence, language, and disturbing themes]**

This will follow the entire storyline starting from Season 2. It's not gonna have any romance in it, sorry.

 **[Mara – MAW ruh]**

 **[Lies – LEEZ]**


	2. 1

**[trigger warning]**

The cool glass of the cab window presses against my scalp as I watch the raindrops race across the surface. Sighing, I blearily raise my head to look over at my mother.

"Are we almost there?"

"Just a few more minutes, miss," The cabbie's Northern accent cuts across my American. I sigh again and trace my finger across the condensation.

My mother awkwardly pats my shoulder. "It's alright, Mara," she says. "We'll get settled in in no time."

 _That's not the point!_ My inner voice shrieks. _I don't_ want _to get settled in! I want to go home!_

The cab slows to a stop in front of the Powell Estate and I leap out onto the wet pavement, stretching my back. I pick up the suitcase that my mother flops in my general direction from the back of the cab. It bumps over the cracks in the pavement and one wheel splashes into a puddle, spraying the back of my legs.

My new room is bland, with cream walls and soft beige carpet. One lonely window faces the street. I roll out my sleeping bag and feel like crying.

The days roll by agonizingly slowly, each supper at the card table in the kitchen lowering my hopes for my new life in England. I like to look out the window and watch the winter rainfall as I eat.

"Cheer up, sweetheart," my mother says. I snort silently, pushing the food around on my plate.

"I don't have any friends here. I know literally no one, Mom."

"Well, you didn't have any friends to start with. I'm sure you'll make some friends this time. Anyways, with my new job here my wages are higher, so we'll be living better." I refrain from snorting. I know all about her cash-guzzling _little habit._ I know she tries to hide them, but I've seen the bottles, and I've smelt the alcohol on her.

More comfortably, maybe. Not better, I don't think.

Punk rock blares in through my headphones, soothing my grated nerves. Today is a Friday night, so she'll probably be gone again. She tends to go out and do _adult things_ more often since Dad and Lies.

The pencil scrapes across the paper in an almost calming manner, the outline of a cat beginning to form. Guitar riffs and drums crash in my eardrums, fueling my intense dissatisfaction with my surroundings, and it explodes outwards.

I trace my finger over the dent my poor sketchbook has left in the maddeningly off-white wall, sighing as I think about how my mother will react. The last time we moved and I dented the wall with my new skateboard, she practically went ballistic.

The clock ticks on, rolling past nine o'clock, past ten o'clock, until it's nearly 1 AM and my eyelids and heart have grown heavy. The sense of loneliness presses down on my chest, impeding my breathing and making it hard to relax. A tear slips out of my eye.

Almost all my life, I've been alone. The loneliness is a part of me now, weighing down on me like an elephant on my chest. You have no idea what it's like to have absolutely no one, to have nobody miss you when you're gone and worst of all, no one to open up to. I feel like there's a balloon of bad feelings in my stomach, and it's slowly swelling up.

More tears stream down my cheeks. I always tend to cry when I'm tired. I cry over the stupidest things- I'm actually really pathetic. I'd never be able to stand up for something; I'd be in the back corner sniveling. My hands fumble with the latch on the tiny wooden box stashed in my bag.

I pull out a thin streak of silver, its sharp edge glinting tantalizingly in the lamplight. The pain it brings me is a relief- the lines of fire across my wrists will make me strong. The physical pain makes it easier to forget the intangible.

I survey my work- twelve neat strokes dance across my left wrist, leaking red. A tissue mops up the blood quickly, and the blade is back in its little box and stowed away before anyone could find out what happened. The fresh red lines contrast rather nicely with my dark tan skin and the white lines already crisscrossing the canvas.

A giddy feeling rises in my chest, bursting into faint giggles. The pain feels delicious- like a runner's high. I clutch my now-bandaged wrist to my chest and sink into the fluttery feeling in my body. When I feel like this, I'm free.

The next morning is a doozy. I drag my stiff body out of its cocoon, crawling down the stairs only to find my mother lying on the kitchen floor, out cold. I heave a sigh when I see the half-empty scotch bottle on the counter.

I kind of feel for her, though- after Lies, we were all damaged. While she flees to her alcohol, I flee to my blade. Something like that could wreck a person if you let it. And Dad- well, Dad didn't help much.

After I manage to get my hungover mother onto the couch and covered with the quilt Grandma sent us, I pull on a hoodie and go for a walk to clear my head. I look at the Christmas lights strung up all over the Estate- I forgot, tomorrow's Christmas.

The shops down the street display a variety of possible Christmas presents, so I head down the alley behind the estate. I know that my mother loves scarves. Her absolute favorite is the one I made for her in sixth grade- about two years ago. She wears it a lot to work and meetings.

Suddenly, a whooshing, grating noise drags me from my scarf-related pondering. My head jerks upwards towards the sound. I scramble behind a garbage bin as two people come running out towards the sound.

A blue light zaps across the air, an old-timey police call box descending from the skies. Before I have a chance to comprehend what had just happened, it swerves towards me, bumping into a service van and smashing into the trash bins. I duck to barely avoid getting slammed in the head by its base.

The peculiar box touches down, the doors swinging open to reveal a skinny man in a leather jacket. My eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

The man speaks. "Here we are, then, London, Earth, the solar system, isn't it?" He peers at the sky before coming face-to-face with one of the people, a middle-aged blonde lady. "Jackie, Mickey, blimey!"

Jackie and Mickey glance at each other questioningly before the man goes on. "No, no, no, no. There was something I had to tell you. Something important. What was it?"

He grabs their shoulders, leaning heavily on them as if for support. "No, hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Sh-sh-sh."

"Oh!" The man's exclamation makes me almost flinch. "I know. Merry Christmas!"

Then the man goes boneless and flops down onto the wet pavement. A young blonde woman sticks her head out of the weird blue box, but by then I've turned tail and scurried back inside the flat.

I sit down on my bedroom floor, warily watching the box through my window. "What. The. Hell. Just. Happened." I take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Maybe it's an optical illusion. Oh, I know. It's those new depression meds you're on. They're making you hallucinate about... flying blue boxes." I deep breathe some more. "Yeah, that's it. It was an optical illusion, like a magic trick, but my new meds made my subconscious screw it up and so it looked real crazy to me."

Still, something about the whole situation is just a bit fishy.

The mug of hot chocolate warms my hands as I sit on the edge of the card table, watching my mother. She still lies motionless, sprawled across the couch. I pull the quilt further up over her limp body and sigh brokenly.

A tear slips down my cheek, splashing into my hot chocolate. I whimper into my hand, cradling my face as I cry. I set down the chocolate and fumble for my razor, the fiery blood streaking down my arm.

The cold tile of the washroom presses into my body as I curl into a helpless ball, tears mingling with blood into a puddle. This was supposed to be Christmas.

I dig the blade further down into my skin, fueled by the anger coursing through my veins. A scream fights to free itself from my throat; I swallow it.

Suddenly, my arms and legs move of their own accord, heaving me upright. I jerk my arms back- or rather, try to. They don't move. My mind whirls, trapped inside my body. I try to scream mut my throat doesn't react.

My legs haul me out the door and onto the street, the chilly winter air hitting my bare legs. My too-big Army t-shirt flaps against my stomach from the clean cool breeze as I ascend a staircase alongside other pajama-clad residents of the estate.

My eyes spin, searching for my mother. She's not among the herds of zombies like myself, all parading upwards, but neither are half of the estate residence. I'd furrow my eyebrows in confusion if I could.

I'm marched to the edge of the estate roof and stop.

I stand there, my t-shirt fluttering in the breeze, waiting. Nothing much seems to happen, and a horrible feeling rises in my chest. I'm going to jump, aren't I?

 **Hello friends I hope this was OK. Please review, share you thoughts!**


	3. 2

**Hello friends, I am back. This one is very depressing, but necessary. This is mainly a coping strategy but I'd still like to make it the best possible for others' enjoyment :)**

 **[trigger warning]**

A sense of calm floods me as I stand balanced on the edge of the roof. Far below me, a pair of dead leaves swirl in the wind. My heart feels like it will burst from the tension and stillness of it all.

I'm going to jump. Somehow, by someone's control, I will end my own life. It's funny, seeing it from this angle. I've considered it seriously, time and time again, but I've never actually stood on an edge. I feel a sense of destiny and finality settle in the bottom of my chest, a sudden understanding. I've settled my fate.

I've got no one. A drunk mother, a father who's left to "find himself," and no sister, not anymore. When I finally do jump, at least I'll be able to see her again.

When I jump, I'll be ready. I want to be done, for it all to be over. No more pain.

For near half an hour I stand, poised on the edge, waiting. The suspense builds until my head feels like it's underwater, my emotions flooding and ebbing through my chest. I want to jump. I long to jump. I want to be free- I'm done with this life.

Every nerve and muscle in my body longs to jump, but I can't move. I strain against my own body, tr to at least tip myself over the edge, but I can't move. A hysterical scream rises in my throat.

All of a sudden, I'm in control again. The numbness washes away like water, leaving me standing in a long row of people on the edge. Everyone else steps back, confusedly. I look down, the distance seemingly stretching away from me.

A sudden sense of disappointment chills me, of anger. I wanted to jump. I was ready. I am ready.

I place my foot over the edge, swaying forward in a surge of adrenaline. Something in me chickens and I turn, stepping back onto the roof. I clench my teeth at my own cowardice and face the edge once more.

I continue this dance, back and forth, safety and danger, death and life, until I scream into my fists, close my eyes, and barrel blindly towards the edge, a horrible pang of finality sinking onto my stomach. My feet shove from the edge and I feel nothingness beneath me.

A pair of strong arms grab my waist roughly. The breath leaves my body as I'm yanked backwards, off of the ledge, crashing into a body with a muted scream.

I scramble to my feet. A man in pajamas hauls himself up next to me, grabbing my shoulders. His face contorts into worried confusion.

"What were you doing?" His English accent only further reminds me of how different I am.

I shake my head, tears welling up and streaming down my face. My feet spin and I fight against inertia to charge back off the edge of the building. I'm angry, hysterical, desperate to leap off of the building.

The man grabs my arm, pulling me back from the edge again. He pins my arms to my sides, holding me still as I fight.

"Calm down, alright? You're okay! You're alright!"

I let out an animalistic noise, clawing to get free hysterically. The man's fingers press against my temples and everything goes black.

The couch is soft under my sore body, the lights dim on my eyelids. I open my eyes slowly, painfully, to see a young blonde woman putting Band-aids on my wrists. I realize with a shock that it's the same girl I saw getting out of the blue box.

My eyebrows furrow. "Who are you?"

"My name's Rose," she says in a similar accent to the man from before.

"But... I saw you before. There was a blue box."

The girl, Rose's, eyes widen for a moment. "You saw it?"

I sit up, running my fingers through my hair. "Yeah, it was... it was behind my house, well, flat, in the alley. Why was it flying?"

Rose smiles. "It's a long story." She smooths a final bandage over my arm and smiles. "You're alright now."

I try to smile and fail. The middle-aged lady I'd seen in the alley emerges from the kitchen and wraps me in a hug.

"Oh, sweetheart," she says. "Here, come and eat. You look starved."

I scoot off of the couch and sit down at the dining table, feeling out of place in my short shorts and oversized Army t-shirt. Rose and her boyfriend, who I've been told is Mickey, try to cut the turkey. Mickey burns his finger and everyone laughs. I manage a giggle for the first time in months.

"Here, sweetheart," Jackie hands me a plate of food. I feel warm inside; it's been a long time since I've felt camaraderie like this. But food is another story.

"So what's your name?" She asks.

"I'm Mara. Mara Li. I moved in a few flats down a couple of weeks ago."

"Where'd you live before?" Rose pipes up.

"Umm, Oregon," I smile sadly as I remember our old house. "It was actually rainier there during winter than here, if you can believe it. I was homeschooled and never really went out much so I didn't have many friends to leave behind. I was actually just starting tenth grade and I would've gone to school with people if we'd stayed."

I take a bite of the turkey, chewing it slowly. I hate eating. But Jackie looks at me expectantly, so I swallow it and smile, feeling it slide down my throat like a gross lump. Christmas music plays over a set of speakers, and a tree sparkles in the corner. My house didn't have a Christmas tree.

Just then the man from before, the Doctor as I've learned, comes in. He's wearing a brown suit instead of pajamas this time, and looks more like a normal person. He smiles at Rose and shoots me a goofy grin. I can't help but smile back.

Rose and the Doctor pop one of those Chistmas thingies they do in Europe; I don't know what they're called. Inside's a pink paper crown. Rose pulls it over my head and brushes my hair out of my face. Everyone's happy.

"I need to check on my mom," I pipe up.

Jackie gasps. "Oh, she must be worried sick!"

I shake my head. "Last time I saw her she was pretty hungover. Unconscious on the floor, if you can believe it. I wasn't sure if she was breathing at first." I push in my chair and set the crown on the table. "Thanks for the dinner, it was great."

I push open the front door warily to see my mother draped across the couch in the exact same position as before. Concern shoots through me.

I touch her face, and she's cold. "Mom?" I ask. " _Mom?!"_ She doesn't respond. I slap at her face, trying to get her conscious again. I scream into my fist, frantically checking for her pulse.

There's nothing.

No. No, no, no. She's fine. She's probably sleeping. Maybe I never woke up after I passed out on the rooftop and I'm having some sick, messed-up dream. Maybe I was slipped a roofie or something.

Footsteps approach me. I spin around, tears in my eyes, to see the Doctor approaching.

"She's dead," I choke out, waving my arms limply. "She's just- dead."

The Doctor checks her pulse before kneeling and pulling me into a hug. I try to control my sobs, saying, "She wasn't very good but she was my mom. My mom is dead now. She's dead." I can't stop repeating it in my mind, the words never quite sinking in. I feel like my head is underwater; everything around me is muffled and distorted.

Somehow I end up sitting on the couch with Rose's arm around me, cradling me. "She's just a kid," I hear her tell the Doctor. "She didn't deserve any of this." A shock blanket is placed around my shoulders, a man in a hospital uniform telling me to look at him. He shines a flashlight into my eyes.

I can see my mother... no. Not my mother, her body, being rolled away on a trolley under a white blanket. The blanket makes me think of snow. The last good memory I had of my mother was snow- Lies and I were sledding, and Mom and Dad were there, and we were together and happy. It's fitting she should be buried under snow.

I can hear the Doctor's voice, growing clearer and clearer as if I'm rising up from underwater. "Mara- Mara."

I shake my head. "H'm?"

"You're going to come with us. I'm not letting you out of my sight after what happened earlier today."

I squint my bleary, painful eyes. "Where are we going?"

Rose pats my shoulder. "You'll see. It'll be fun!"

"Can I put on a pair of pants first?"

 **So anyways that was painful but necessary. And yes it's possible to die from a hangover if you're overly dehydrated and drank a ton and then are just, like, unconscious, so. Please review if you like it so far, if everyone's in character (that's my biggest fear, that somebody will be wildly out of character), suggestions, things you'd like to see, etc. I LOVE YOU ALL**


	4. 3

**Hi friends sorry this is so late. I was dealing with a personal crisis and crippling depression. Needless to say I have returned and I promise to put as much effort as I can into updating on time.**

Snuggling deeper into my warm sweatshirt, I pull up my black jeans and step out into the light snowfall. High above me in the atmosphere, bright lights shoot across the sky.

"Ooh, meteors!" Rose says. "That's beautiful."

"It's the spaceship breaking up in the atmosphere," the Doctor says. "And it isn't snow, it's ash."

I hurriedly spit out the "snowflake" I'd accidentally caught on my tongue.

"Okay, not so beautiful."

"And this is a brand-new planet Earth," the Doctor continues. "No denying the existence of aliens now, everyone saw it. Everything's new."

"And what about you?" Rose asks. "What are you gonna do next?"

"Weeelll..." The Doctor draws out the word. "Back to the Tardis, same old life." I assume the "Tardis" is the blue box. But what it does is beyond me.

"O-on your own?" Rose pipes up hesitantly.

"Why, don't you want to come?"

"Well, yeah."

"Well, I just thought..."

I watch them talk over each other. They're almost like an old married couple, but at the same time two hesitant kids with crushes.

"Well, I reckon you're mad," Jackie puts in. "Just looking for trouble."

The Doctor skips over and puts his arm around her. "Oh, trouble's just the bits in-between." His long brown coat swirls. "It's all waiting out there, Jackie. And it's brand-new to me. All those planets, creatures and horizons, haven't seen them yet."

Wait, what? Why would he be talking about planets? A wild and dangerous thought rises in me that maybe the blue box is a spaceship.

And it is gonna be..." He turns to look at Rose. "Fantastic." He holds out his hand to Rose and they both get in the Tardis. I turn to walk away when the Doctor sticks his head back out and points at me.

"Oi! I told you I'm not letting you out of my sight."

I scrunch up my face. "How the hell are we all going to fit in there?"

He smiles as if he's got a secret. "Come on."

As soon as I step across the threshold of the tiny blue box, my jaw drops. It's massive. The ceiling arcs high above me, with spires of what looks like coral vaulting upwards. At the center of the massive room sits a huge disc-shaped control panel. I let out a little squeak and turn to look at the Doctor, wide-eyed.

"This place is rad as f-"

"Don't swear."

"Sorry."

After about 14 hours of sleep in a bedroom that the Tardis (whom I've learned is not an "it," is a "she" and is sentient) made for me, I come trotting back out to the control room, feeling utterly depressed. My mother is gone, and she's not coming back.

The Doctor is there, flipping switches in the strange blue light. He glances at my sweatshirt. "That's very American."

I look down at the American flag emblazoned across it. "It was my sister's. It reminds me of her."

The Doctor smiles lightly.

"So what does this machine do exactly? I mean, it's bigger on the inside, but what does it do?"

"Oh, it goes everywhere," the Doctor says. "All of time and space."

I blink. "Time travel? So, like, you could go back and see-"

"Crossing into established events is strictly forbidden. I'm sorry. We can't go back on someone's personal timeline."

My shoulders sag, and the last ray of hope in my chest flickers out.

Suddenly, the console glows, and a whooshing, grating noise fills the room. Rose hops back on board, duffel bags in hand, drops them on the floor, and plunks down next to me. She makes me feel comfortable; she's so friendly. If I'd've known people were so nice, I'd've gone out more.

"So where are we going?" She asks with a grin.

"Further than we've ever gone before." The Doctor pulls a lever, and the whole thing shakes like an earthquake.

Rose pulls open the door and steps out, the Doctor grabbing my hand and dragging me out along with him. I stop short as the wave of apple-scented wind rushes into my face.

Holy crap. Holy mother of crap. I'm standing on a different planet.

"It's the year 5,000,000,023," The Doctor supplies, and I let out a little shriek. Rose glances at me amusedly. "We're in the Galaxy M87 and this... this is New Earth."

Strange craft whoosh by overhead, and a long sleek bridge of metal shoots across a body of water towards possibly the most awesome thing I've ever laid eyes on. Spires rise towards the heavens, bulbous buildingtops jutting up above the planetary-like rings of flying craft. The whole thing glints like sleek metal. To say my jaw dropped is an understatement- My jaw hit the ground so hard it left a dent.

"It's just... that's just..." I can't even get words out.

"Not bad. Not bad at all." The Doctor's spiky hair blows sraight back from his face.

"I'll never get used to this, never," Rose chimes in. I don't think I will either.

"What's that smell?" I speak up.

"Apple grass," The Doctor says, kneeling down and grabbing a handful. I grin wildly. The Doctor grabs both of our hands and drags us along, running across the grass.

"So, can we visit the city?"

"Actually, I thought we'd go there first," the Doctor replies. I look across the bay at a tall white building, curiously curved on one side. A large green sickle moon adorns the side.

"Why, what is it?"

"Some sort of hospital," The doctor says. "The green moon on the side, that's the universal symbol for hospitals." He pulls a weird badge-looking thing out of his overcoat pocket. "I got this... A message on the psychic paper." He opens the picture and the words _Ward 26, Please Come_ scroll across it.

"Oh, and here I thought we were just sightseeing," Rose says, brushing her windswept hair out of her face. "Come on, then. Let's go and buy some grapes."

We stroll through the row of push doors, the Doctor commenting, "I really don't like these places."

"Bit rich, coming from you." Rose glances at him.

"I can't help it, I don't like hospitals. They give me the creeps." The doctor strolls along with his hands in his pockets.

I stop for a moment, gazing around me. The sounds of feet echo off of the slick whitewashed walls, the smell of disinfectant wafting over the chilly air. Nuns dressed all in white wander the floor in pairs.

" _The Pleasure Gardens will now take visitors carrying green or blue identification cards for the next 15 minutes,"_ an automated voice flows across the PA system. " _Visitors are reminded that cuttings from the gardens are not permitted."_

"What's the pleasure gardens?" I lean across Rose to ask the Doctor.

Just then, we pass a nun, catching a glimpse of her face. " _She is a cat!"_ I hiss in surprise at my friends.

"Now, don't stare. Think what you look like to them- all tan and black," The Doctor reprimands. He strolls off towards the elevators and I trot hurriedly after him, still wanting to know about the cat-nurses.

"Ward 26, thanks," The Doctor says easily, and the whole contraption jerks and then shifts upwards. Poor Rose is left on the main floor, and my irrational fear of elevators kicks in. I wring my hands together inside my sweatshirt pocket.

"Wait, hold on!" I hear her shout muffled through the elevator doors.

"Can't, too late, I'm going up," The Doctor shouts downwards at the door. I hear her shout something back, but it's too muffled.

"Ward 26, and watch out for the disinfectant."

Muffled noise.

"The disinfectant!"

Another muffled noise.

" _The dis-_ Oh, you'll find out."

"Wait, what disinfectant?" I pipe up.

"Just wait."

" _Commence stage one disinfection,_ " The mechanical voice chimes. A shower of icy water rains from the ceiling, startling me enough to elicit a shriek. I clutch my sweatshirt to my body. The Doctor runs his fingers through his hair, as if washing it.

Suddenly, a huge cloud of whitish powder shoots from the walls. It clings to my skin and my clothes, accidentally getting sucked into my lungs. I cough halfheartedly.

A rushing blow dryer of sorts surrounds us in warm air, drying our clothes rather effectively. My fingers run through my now snarled and knotted hair, making me thankful I keep it relatively short. I straighten myself out before following the Doctor out of the elevator and into Ward 26.

A green light bathes us as we exit the elevator, filling my vision and leaving splotches behind my eyelids. I squint as the bleached white ceiling arcs above us, opening into a large room. I catch a glimpse between the plastic curtains of a man with completely red skin. On second glance I notice that hovers of his own accord at about waist height. I instinctively press closer to the Doctor.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me along with him as he follows a veiled nurse. "Nice place. No shop downstairs- I'd have a shop. Not a big one, just a shop. So people can- shop."

The cat nurse removes her veil. "The hospital is a place of healing."

"Oh, a shop does some people a world of good." He tilts his head. "Not me, other people."

I think of my mom. She liked to shop- she was always in the gift stores when we went places. A sad feeling prickles at the back of my throat and I let go of the Doctor's side uncertainly.

"The Sisters of Plenitude take a lifelong vow to help and to mend." The cat nurse turns near the end of the hall.

"Excuse me!" THe priss voice cuts across the quiet hospital atmosphere. I jerk sideways. To my left, a woman in a business suit and cat-eye glasses stands next to a rather fat man in lavish robes. My eyes widen when I see his skin appears to be made of stone.

The uptight woman continues. "Members of the public may only gaze upon the Duke of Manhattan with written permission from the Senate of New York."

"That's petrifold regression, right?" The Doctor's hair moves as he nods towards the Duke.

"I'm dying, sir," The stone man croaks out. "A lifetime of charity and abstinence and it ends like this." My stomach chills at the thought; I wonder what it would be like to die, slowly turning into stone. I shudder unconsciously.

"Any statements made by the Duke of Manhattan may not be made public without official clearance." The woman glances intensely at me from behind the weirdly shaped glasses.

"Frau Clovis!" The Duke's call sends the woman scurrying back to his side, and we move on.

"He'll be up and about in no time," The nurse informs us serenely.

"I doubt it. Petrifold Regression- he's turning to stone. There won't be a cure for, oh, a thousand years. He might be up and about, but only as a statue." I shudder again.

"Have faith in the Sisterhood. But is there no-one here you recognize? It's rather unusual, to visit without knowing the patient."

"No, I think I've found him." The Doctor nods in the direction of a glass tank, a strange creature inside. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up- it's a giant head.

 **Yo guys Jack is here now :))))) please review. I've been dealing with a lot of shit and antidepressants as well as a feeling of general worthlessness, and reviews are honestly the best part of my day, even week. I don't want to seem needy though,,, Flames, even, are appreciated.**

 **~Toodles my dudes~ (never saying that again)**


	5. 4

**Sup guys I am not actually dead. K so sorry this is so late, but i have another chapter. Also I'm going to change the story title soon, I'm not sure what to yet.**

The gigantic head floats almost dreamily inside a tank, swathed in smoke. I furrow my eyebrows, glancing up at the Doctor.

"The Face of Boe," he says, leaning down to be at eye-height with me.

"Novice Hame, I think I can leave this gentleman in your care?" The cat nurse beside us puts in.

The Doctor unwinds his arm from around my shoulder. Oh, I think our friend got lost. Rose Tyler- could you ask at reception?"

"Certainly, sir." The cat lady saunters off.

"I'm afraid the Face of Boe's asleep." Novice Hame's feline features furrow for a moment. My eyes drift back over to the head; he floats, brown and wrinkled and huge, with his eyes closed. It's almost sad.

The Novice turns back to us. "That's all he tends to do these days. Are you friends?"

"I met him, just once on Platform One. What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought you knew." Novice Hame's clear blue eyes pierce my own. "The Face of Boe is dying."

"Of what?" I pipe up, my voice scratchy from disuse.

"Old age, the one thing we can't cure." I can hear the sadness in her voice. "He's _thousands_ of years old, some people say millions, although that's impossible." My angular eyes widen at that.

"Oh, I don't know. I like impossible." The Doctor kneels, pressing his hand against the glass surrounding the Face. I awkwardly take a step back, picking at the bandages wrapped around my wrists and feeling like I'm intruding on something personal.

"I'm here. I look a bit different, but it's me, it's the Doctor." The Face of Boe furrows his brows, turning to face the Doctor directly. They appear to have some sort of silent conversation, going on for minutes and minutes before the Doctor wanders off.

I feel a cup of water pressed into my hand, turning just in time to hear the Doctor say, "Drink this. Don't want you getting dehydrated," and offering another cup to Hame, who declines politely.

 _Hope, harmony, and health._ The words echo off of the clinical white ceiling.

"I can hear him singing, sometimes, in my mind. Such ancient songs." The Novice looks dreamily at the ground for a moment.

"Are we the only visitors?" The Doctor asks, taking a sip of his water.

"The rest of Boekind became extinct, long ago. He's the only one left. Legend says that the Face of Boe has watched the universe grow old. There's all sorts of superstitions around him. One story says that just before his death, the Face of Boe will impart his great secret, that he will speak those words only to someone like himself."

"What does that mean?" Asks the Doctor as he gazes at the Face.

"It's just a story. It's said he'll talk to a wanderer, to the man without a home, the lonely god."

The Doctor hangs up the strange telephone, glancing back at me. "Rose says she'll be here in a few minutes."

"It's that man again!" The two of us turn at the exclamation to see the fat man from earlier, the Duke of something, I believe, with healthy normal skin and a champagne glass in hand. "He's my good luck charm! Come in, don't be shy!"

The Doctor smiles awkwardly, rubbing his ear.

"Any friendship expressed by the Duke of Manhattan does not constitute a form of legal contract," The uptight lady with the pointed glasses interjects.

The Duke is raised up into a sitting position. "Look at me. No sign of infection!"

"Champagne, sir?" A waiter with a tray steps forward.

I reach for a glass, but the Doctor pushes my hand away and half-glares at me from the corner of his eye. "No, thanks.

"You had petrifold regression, right?"

"'Had' being the operative word, past tense! Completely cured!" The man beams, pulling his double chin upwards.

The Doctor shoves his hands into his pockets, "But that's impossible."

The cat nurse lady appears seemingly out of thin air next to me. "Primitive species would accuse us of magic, but it's merely the... tender application of science."

"How on earth did you cure him?"

"How on New Earth, you might say." The cat nurse narrows her eyes.

"What's in that solution?" The Doctor nods toward the bags of colored liquid hanging from the Duke's IV drip.

"A simple remedy."

"Then tell me what it is."

"I'm sorry- patient confidentiality. I don't believe we've met. My name is Matron Casp."

"I'm the Doctor."

"I think you'll find that _we're_ the doctors here."

Another nurse sticks her head in between me and the Matron. "Matron Casp, you're needed in intensive care."

"If you'd excuse me." The Matron nods her head toward us and saunters off with the other nurse.

The sound of footsteps draws the Doctor's attention. Rose wanders over to us, hair mussed and a dreamy look in her eyes. I notice that she'd unbuttoned her shirt a ways as well, and try to avoid looking at her exposed cleavage. I hope I'm not blushing.

"There you are! Come and look at this pationt." The Doctor, now with his glasses on, grabs her by the arm and tows her over to where I'm standing awkwardly next to the floating red-skinned man. "Marconi's disease, should take years to recover." He folds up his glasses and stuffs them into his jacket pocket. " _Two days._ I've never seen anything like it. They've invented a cell-washing cascade, it's amazing. Their medical science is _way_ advanced."

He pulls both of us over to a laying man with snow-white skin and dark eyes, observing the Doctor lazily. "And this one, pallidome pancrosis. Kills you in ten minutes- and he's fine." The Doctor waves at him.

"I need to find a terminal. Gotta see how they do this." He grabs Rose's and my arms and tows us down the hall. "If they've got the best medisine in the world, why's it such a secret?"

"I can't Adam 'n' Eve it," Rose drawls in a strange tone. I glance at her suspiciously, the Doctor frowning at her in confusion.

"What-what's with the voice?"

"I don't know, just... larking about. New Earth, new me." She says it in the same tone.

"Rose, are you alright?" I pipe up.

I swear she sends me a glare out of the corner of her eye, right before she grabs the Doctor's head and pulls him down into a rather forceful kiss. I watch as her hands drag through his hair, barely stifling a snicker at the Doctor's baffled face after she pulls away.

"T-terminal's this way." Rose points weakly at the end of the hall, tripping away.

I snort. The Doctor looks at me, straightening his tie and traipsing off after her. I can hardly keep the giggles in when I hear a soft, "Yep. Still got it."

The Doctor pulls out his screwdriver, flicking it on and pulling up a map of the building on an interface screen. "Nope, nothing odd. Surgery, Post-op, nanodentistry. No sign of a shop, they should have a shop."

"No, it's missing something else." Rose tucks her hair behind her ear and points at a spot on the map. "When I was downstairs, those nurse-cat-nuns were talking about intensive care, but where is it?"

"You're right, well done."

"Why would the hide a whole department?" I crane my neck over Rose's left shoulder.

"It's gotta be there somewhere, search the subframe," Rose says.

"What if the subframe's locked?"

Rose looks at him as if he were an idiot. "Try the installation protocol."

"Yeah, course, sorry. Hold on." The screwdriver emits a trilling sound.

The three of us jerk away from the wall as a loud rush of steam comes from nowhere. Stumbling back, I see that the wall in front of us is descending with a mechanical whirring sound, the sterile white giving way to an industrial grey hallway.

"Intensive care..." The doctor mutters. "Certainly looks intensive."

 **so anyways review or whatever**


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